Elegy Chapter Two: Nistalan
(Scene 1) :The Scratching Post Bar and Grill :Levity, Planet Odell :Antares System, Antares Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.107, 2013 Hours EST (Six Months Earlier) (Scene 2) :Daik Qith'rak nar Sutaghi :Brajakh Birinin, Planet N'Ryllis :N'Ryllis System, Kur'u Caxki Quadrant, Kilrah Sector :2669.267, 1307 Hours EST (Eleven Years Earlier) (Scene 3) :The Scratching Post Bar and Grill :Levity, Planet Odell :Antares System, Antares Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.107, 2020 Hours EST (Scene 4) :Office of the Governor of Epsilon Sector :Hope, Planet Epsilon Prime :Epsilon Prime System, Deneb Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.110, 0954 Hours EST "By Alistair's bunch? Bar or brothel?" It was a fair question; General Bradley Alistair, who had been a pilot during the closing days of the War and had a well-deserved reputation for being a womanizer, had often held to the notion that such establishments were great places to gather intelligence and had set up such places throughout the Sector specifically for that purpose. The fact that the General himself often patronized his own establishments - particularly his brothels - didn't diminish the faith the Confederation put in the intelligence his teams gathered, though there were plenty of people in the Confederation civil government that thought of his methods with more than a modicum of disgust. Lee was one of those people - almost everything about the General disgusted her to the core. He wasn't even that good of a lay... "By group'Alistair? Bar-or-brother?" It-was-question-fair; Fact that he-patronized his-establishments, General - brothels in-particular - did-diminish-faith not Confederation-put in-espionage that teams'his-gathered. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room; her aide said nothing. She had long ago told him the tale - how her husband had worked as a field agent for the Broken Claw and had one day been out distributing food when he'd been attacked - his arm had been sliced off by a Kilrathi blade and he'd been left to die, the Kilrathi not even bothering to report the attack until it was too late to do anything about it. She had sent in troops to find the perpetrator - who had been repeatedly identified as Krahtagh N'Ryllis by those compelled to come forward - only to discover he'd fled the reservation and had since disappeared without a trace. She'd since studied N'Ryllis's reservation ID photo intensely, at least once a day, wondering where that spineless cast bastard was hiding. No one knew, until now - now they had a solid lead, something to follow up on, something they could use to bring him to justice at last. She made a fast decision; it wasn't a given that he'd head there, but she needed to eliminate that possibility. "Contact the KAC Council. I want to speak to Ra'Khaj nar Ghoran myself and find out what he was doing on Odell. Meanwhile, send a message to the T'Kon H'hra base and advise them to be on the lookout for a Kilrathi matching N'Ryllis's description arriving sometime in the next few days. He is to be considered armed and dangerous. I want him apprehended at all costs." She-made-decision-quick; it-was-assumed-true not that he-would-go there, but she must-eliminate-that-possible. "Send-message to Council'KAC. I-want-speak to-him myself and find what he-was-doing on Odell, Ra'Khaj nar Ghoran. Meanwhile, send-message to-base-T'Kon H'hra and advise-them be-watching for-Kilrathi match-description'N'Ryllis arrive-time-some in-days-few-next. He-is-be-considered armed-and-dangerous. I-want-him apprehended at-costs-all." (Scene 5) :Docking Port 4-5 :T'kon H'hra Military Salvage Yard :T'kon H'hra System, Sa'Khan Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.113, 1222 Hours EST *''49 blocks of text'' "Identi-card, please." Bloodeye handed the fake card to the Terran agent calmly, suppressing any sign of apprehension. This was the crucial moment - if he got caught, it was almost certain that he'd find himself in the hands of the Broken Claw and on his way to be his impending execution. Or they'd simply kill him outright; he'd heard of such things happening since the end of the war and had no reason not to believe what he'd heard. At least he'd arrived aboard the station intact; things had gotten a little hairy right shortly after he'd left Odell. Having made the decision to take a circuitous route through KAC territory that avoided the KAC bases at Pasqual and Bifrost, he had been challenged by Border Worlds militiamen at the jump to D'vd Tang, which, nerve-wracking as it was, vindicated his decision to have the shuttle's transponder codes changed before he left Odell. The militiamen eventually let him go unmolested to Asgard. At the jump to Asgard In D'vd Tang, he had a run-in with a group of DeathHeads - one of the more dangerous Terran pirate clans that had infested Epsilon Sector after the end of the war. He'd only survived that encounter by running for the jump point, taking potshots at the pirates whenever they closed in. Fortunately for him a Bronte Corporation convoy was on the other side of the jump, and when the DeathHeads came through in pursuit of his shuttle, they suddenly found themselves with bigger, slower and more lucrative targets available, letting him get away. The shuttle's auto-repair system had fixed most of the damage the pirates had inflicted by the time he reached the jump point to Corsair, where he had a run-in with a small group of Firekkan fighters operated by the rogue BlackFire Flock; he would've had major problems even if he'd run up against Firekkan regulars due to the ongoing hatred between the Kilrathi and Firekkan peoples, but the fact they were BlackFire meant a desperate fight with Bloodeye at a severe disadvantage. Again he'd only gotten away by running, the Firekkan pirates deciding not to pursue his shuttle further into KAC territory. Still, the scum had chewed up the shuttle; he'd had no choice but to land for repairs on Chloe, eschewing the main settlement in favor of the community of Pi on the southernmost large island that passed for a continent on the watery world. Fueling and repairs had cost him a day and most of the money he still had on his person, but the mechanics at the community's small craft dealership had proven themselves up to the task; he soon found himself back in space with a fully capable shuttle, and if the mechanics had detected any tampering with the shuttle's transponder, they had let him go on his way without saying anything about it. The rest of the journey had gone much more smoothly; he'd ran into a few patrols belonging to the Morgan's Raiders pirate clan in Charon and Vigrid as well as a few Despoilers in Valgard, but in each case there had been passing Terran freighter traffic, juicier targets with which the greedy Terran pirates could concern themselves. He'd stopped to refuel one more time at the hedonistic community of Brajakh'rax on Qua'lat Kes, stopping just long enough to fuel up - though that didn't prevent him from being propositioned by local prostitutes no less than three times while he waited. Commercial traffic started dying down noticeably after he reached T'Kon Meth, though while he was passing through the system he did intercept a distress call from a Kilrathi convoy reporting that they under attack by Lancers. Though he dearly wanted to come to the aide of his brethren, his shuttle was definitely no match for the Dragons of the Black Lance, and the distress call terminated abruptly before he could make a decision as to whether or not he should go to the convoy's aid, quickly deciding the matter for him. The rest of the journey had been uneventful other than having to negotiate a pair of asteroid fields. He had been struck with a sense of despair almost immediately upon completing the jump to T'Kon H'hra. The pair of corvettes that had challenged him upon his entry into the system and that had ultimately dispatched the pair of Vaktoth fighters that escorted him to the station were the only operational Kilrathi craft he'd seen in the area. Every other Kilrathi craft nearby was either in a state of advanced decay or was actively being rendered inoperable. As the fighters escorted his shuttle to the station, the thought crossed his mind that he was beholding what was left of the last Grand Fleet of the Empire of Kilrah, the very ships that had come so close - so close - to finally winning the war against the Terrans. It was a terrible shame and a terrible waste to behold. It was also somewhere among that massive field of once-proud near-junk that he was supposed to find the warship that would allow him to wage the war he wanted against the Terrans. As he now looked at the Terran customs agent scanning his identity card and deciding whether or not to let him come aboard the station - with a scowl slowly seeping into the creature's face - Bloodeye began to think that coming to T'Kon H'hra might've been a big mistake. But with his money all but gone and with his shuttle only carrying enough fuel for another two jumps - and with nowhere else to land within range - he had no choice now: it was either find a ship or become a permanent resident. Ra'Khaj had said that life aboard the station was worse than life on the reservations, and it occurred to him that he might very well be about to test that assertion firsthand... If he made it past the next few minutes, of course. The Terran didn't look very happy. "Wait here a moment, please." The Terran exited to an adjacent room, rapidly passing from sight. Pus, Bloodeye thought. This can't be good. He subtly reached down and released the clasp securing his koractu to its scabbard - he might very well be bringing a sword to a gun fight, but if this was to be his final hour, he fully intended to go down fighting. To his surprise, a Kilrathi came through the door a few seconds later with the Terran agent following close behind. The kil was obviously a commoner; Bloodeye could tell from the mingled colors of his fur, the blunt shape of his muzzle and the flatness of his head. Despite this, the kil bore himself well, like someone of importance in this place. He was wearing current standard KAC battledress armor, a grotesque hybrid of traditional Kilrathi duty armor and Confederation battle fatigues; Bloodeye thought that the colors clashed unnaturally with one another. He wore the sigil of the Sutaghi clan above his right-side shirt pocket, and his pauldrons bore the rank insignia of First Fang - a fourth-level officer equal to a Terran Major or Lieutenant Commander (in theory anyway). Bloodeye noticed that the Kilrathi was unarmed, conspicuously carrying neither blade nor pistol - and he wondered if that was because of the station's regulations or if the station's staff didn't trust the Kilrathi officer enough to allow him to carry any weapons. The kil walked directly towards Bloodeye with a neutral expression on his face, stopping a few paces away before nodding welcome and addressing Bloodeye in their native language. "Greetings. You must come with me now." Bloodeye addressed the kil in a polite tone. "Is there a problem, First Fang?" The other Kilrathi shook his head negatively. "No problem, but I do need to ask you a few questions before I can allow you onto the station. We don't get a lot of Kilrathi visiting the station voluntarily; most of our brethren here are trying to leave." "I'm here merely to conduct some business and then I'll be on my way." Bloodeye could tell that the other kil wasn't buying into the idea that his presence there was entirely innocent. The other's kil voice, while remaining polite, did take on a hint of a hard edge. "I understand. It's the nature of that business that I need to ask about. So, I must ask you to come with me again - preferably before the Terran with the nasty-looking gun at his side becomes trigger-happy." Bloodeye looked over at the Terran and noticed that he had released the clasp on his weapon and that he did appear to be ready to draw it at the slightest provocation. And it was a very nasty weapon - a Terran service Gauss gun, easily capable of vaporizing his body without so much as staining the deck plate or leaving a pile of ash... He didn't see where he had much of a choice but to follow the other Kilrathi. Bloodeye nodded his assent to the other kil; the other kil in turn gestured for Bloodeye to head towards an open door leading into an adjacent room, one that from what little Bloodeye could see of the interior was specifically setup for interrogation. He moved in that general direction; as he did so, he maneuvered his hand onto the hilt of his koractu as surreptitiously as he could manage, making sure the Terran - who, from the lack of the sound of footfalls, seemed to be holding his position - couldn't see what he was doing. Bloodeye entered the interrogation room with the other Kilrathi taking the time to close the door as entered he behind him. He was preparing to draw his blade when the other Kilrathi spoke in their native tongue, his tone casual. "You should keep your hands in plain sight. There are scanners, cameras and microphone pickups located throughout the room and I can guarantee that the Terrans monitoring everything that happens in this particular room would not react at all well to any sudden movement. So, please sit." Bloodeye slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his blade, sitting down on the only piece of furniture in the room - a large, hard-metal stool. He folded his hands in his lap in front of him and forced himself to remain calm; if there were truly scanners placed throughout the room as the other kil had stated, it was likely his metabolic processes were being monitored, and he didn't want the Terrans to know the true state of his emotions at that moment. It was one thing to suppress fear - which, despite what their culture dictated, all Kilrathi felt from time to time. It was quite another to fool a computer designed to detect it, something that took strong mental discipline - and something for which Bloodeye was eternally grateful that his master had insisted he spend nearly two years training to do. The other kil produced a PDA from his side and pressed a few buttons on it. He then handed the device brusquely to Bloodeye, his voice hostile. "Are you aware that your identi-card is over a year out of date?" Bloodeye looked at the screen of the PDA. It read 'Play along and act stupid. You're here to see if Paulsen is interested in setting up a market on Pasqual for spare Kilrathi machinery.' The message set in quickly. "Uh, no I was not aware of that. A year, you say?," he stammered. The other Kil took back his PDA, typing rapidly. "That's right: a year. There's a fifteen-credit delinquency fee for having an identity card out of date. You'll be expected to pay this fee before you'll be allowed to depart the station." "I see. May I renew my card while I'm here?" The kil spoke with disgust, handing the PDA to Bloodeye again forcefully. "No, you may not. You'll have to go to the registrar's office on Pasqual, just like everybody else. And you'll be expected to pay the fee again once you get there. If you'll please indicate on the screen that you've been given this information, I have a few questions and then you may be on your way." Bloodeye quickly read the screen. Below the official notice, he read 'Your meeting with Lord Ra'Khaj on Odell didn't go unnoticed by the Broken Claw. You're going to be subject to a full identity scan as soon as your finger touches the "Accept" button; I've already rigged things so you won't be given away. Meet me on Level 12 Section C at 1700 and keep your blade hidden in the meantime.' Bloodeye tapped the screen. There was a momentary bright flash that filled the room as the other kil re-took possession of his PDA, the faux identity scan commencing. The kil looked briefly at the screen, and then continued with a harsh tone. "What exactly is the nature of your business here?" "I'm here to see if Paulsen is interested in setting up a market on Pasqual for spare Kilrathi machinery. I represent a group attempting to establish another settlement on the planet's surface and we could use all the equipment we could get our hands on," Bloodeye replied. He had improvised a little bit of his response, but it sounded plausible; Pasqual X had only been heavily populated for just over a decade and there weren't a lot of independent communities on the planet's surface. The other kil scowled. "You do know that Paulsen has an office in Rahras Pukcal, right?" "Our group didn't get very far with the Terrans in the Capital on Pasqual, so we thought we'd try somewhere closer to where materials were being processed." There was truth enough in that statement; Terran businessmen had a noted history for refusing to negotiate fairly... "So if you had no luck in Pasqual, what makes you think you'll have better luck here?" Bloodeye smirked. "Judging from how things have unfolded so far in the twenty minutes I've been on this station, what makes you think I expect to have better luck here? If I didn't have my business partners to consider, I'd leave as soon as my ship was finished refueling." The other kil's scowl deepened. He looked as though he was about to say something else but at that point there was a chime from his PDA. He looked at it and almost immediately the other kil's demeanor softened. "Very well. We're done here - I have no further reason to detain you. I don't believe that you will meet with much success in your endeavors, but then if you were to ignore my opinion you would not be the first kil to do so." Bloodeye rose from the stool, apparently free from immediate danger but still full of questions. He decided to keep up the charade for the time being, at least until he was out the customs area. "Then you'll forgive me if I at least show some probably-foolish optimism and ignore your opinion for the time being. I didn't catch your name, First Fang......" The other kil opened the door leading back out into the customs area, gesturing Bloodeye to follow him. "My name is Arrah Sutaghi - for all the more good that piece of information does you." Ah - that explains quite a bit, actually, Bloodeye thought as he followed the other Kil - who he now knew was the contact he was supposed to meet here - back into the customs area. Their meeting was quite serendipitous - now he wouldn't have to hunt for Sutaghi, which of itself would save him a considerable amount of time. He still had to wonder if Ra'Khaj had arranged for Sutaghi to meet him like this, if he had anticipated problems upon his arrival at T'Kon H'hra, or if something else had precipitated the charade he was being forced to act out. Sutaghi approached the Terran guard, whose scowl was still deeply fixed and whose hand remained on the butt of his Gauss gun. The kil stopped a foot away from the Terran and held out the PDA for him to examine. The Terran glanced back and forth at it several times, his expression changing to one of bewilderment. "Huh. He certainly looks like that Cat whose holo got flashed our way from the Governor's office a couple of days ago, but this all checks out; if you want to let him on the station, Gux'a P'nt, it's your funeral." Gux'a P'nt?, Bloodeye thought with surprise. Why does the Terran call you 'One who Murders Five', Arrah Sutaghi? He then recalled that Ra'Khaj had mentioned that Sutaghi had a stigma of his own; perhaps that was a reference to it. On the other hand, it was a well-known fact that only takhari would refer to one another by a nickname or callsign, and though the two of them obviously worked with one another it was very unlikely that Sutaghi considered the Terran anything more than a co-worker. Regardless of the reason, Sutaghi had clearly become annoyed at the words when they were uttered and Bloodeye couldn't blame him for it. "Yes, I will authorize this kil to enter the base on my own authority; I am satisfied that he is not Krahtagh "Bloodeye" N'Ryllis." The Terran shrugged and then addressed Bloodeye. "Do you got a name, Cat?" As he ignored the annoying perjorative and spoke to answer with his alias - his nickname and true family name, something the Terran wouldn't know about - it occurred to Bloodeye that this was the same agent who had scanned his identity card, which had the same alias printed right on it. He should've known his name already. If he was doing his job right. If he cared. Terrans really don't care about much of anything at all, it seems...how could the Empire have ever been defeated by a people who take no pride in their work? It staggers the mind, he thought. "I am called Kayi nar Thaknav." Out of the corner of his eye he thought he could see Sutaghi contain a smirk; 'Kayi' was the literal translation of 'Bloodeye'. "Uh-huh. Well, Kayi nar Thaknav, welcome to hell..." At that, the agent walked over to a large set of doors leading towards the station's interior and placed his hand firmly on a plate on the wall next to them. There was a green flash as the agent's hand was scanned, and then the doors slowly rumbled open. The first thing that hit him as he passed through the now-open threshold was the stench, an unspeakably foul combination of stale piss, moldy shit, unwashed bodies and rotten meat assaulting his senses simultaneously. Then it was the sheer number of Kilrathi he could see crammed into the space, which had obviously been the station's main cargo bay at one time or another. He didn't have time to count them all, but could only guess that the number had to be in the thousands - this on a space outpost whose standard compliment was only supposed to be a few hundred at the very most. Then it was the looks on the faces of that countless mass of the damned. They were all lean - emaciated even - a look of despair and hopelessness on every face. Some of them were scarred; a few were even bloody, obviously from recent fights over Sivar only knew what. The few Kilrathi who glanced back at him did so with looks of disgust; Bloodeye could only guess why - perhaps it was because he had obviously had a meal recently, or perhaps his presence was mere one more mouth to feed. By Sivar - truly this place is nargrast, he thought. He turned around to ask where he would be able to find food, but by then the doors were rumbling shut. And as they clanged back into place, Bloodeye knew that he was well and truly committed to his course. Not thirty seconds had he been among the populace of T'Kon H'hra - and Bloodeye knew already that Ra'Khaj had been right. Not thirty seconds had he been there, and he knew it was because of scenes like the one he was witnessing that there was only course of action to take. He had to go to war. (Scene 6) :Arrah Sutaghi's Quarters :T'kon H'hra Military Salvage Yard, Level 12 Section C :T'kon H'hra System, Sa'Khan Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.113, 1718 Hours EST "...and so now you know the truth of my story. Whether you choose to believe it or not is your concern. If not, I'll leave here in peace while I still can. If you do, however, I would ask you for your help." It had certainly been an educational day; there could be little doubt about that. The first thing he'd done upon entering the cargo bay and recovering from the initial shock of the truly appalling conditions within was to attempt to determine how to gain access to basic services, which he'd need if he wound up having to stay aboard the station for any significant length of time. He'd learned quickly that the tens of thousands of Kilrathi piled into the cargo bay had to share communal bedding; you simply crashed where you could find space on the cargo racks and prayed that you woke up the next day with the same set of possessions you had the previous day. Parasites were, as might be expected, a major issue among the populace. Privies were primitive but present, consisting of large ration barrels behind short screens, which he learned were eventually pumped into the cargo bay's overworked consumables recycling system, the same system from which the cargo bay's water supply came; he'd learned that most newcomers eventually became ill within a few days of their arrival after their first drink of water. Food, he'd learned, was particularly difficult to come by; the Terrans could only distribute food every few days, and then when they did do so it was usually Soylents or Universal Meat Product, both of which were "meat" only by the very loosest of definitions. He had seen some Kilrathi with pieces of rux'fra, which they guarded fiercely; he had learned that those basic pieces of dried meat were considered more valuable than gold among the Kilrathi populace, and that they could be found readily if you weren't picky about what meat had been used in their manufacture. Despite Arrah Sutaghi's admonition not to draw his sword, he had found it necessary to do so - he had felt a grasping hand at his side near the hilt of his koractu and he'd instinctively drawn the blade from its sheath, cutting off the finger of the would-be thief in the process. Those who had witnessed the event did not give him any trouble afterwards, though as he left the scene he'd heard a commotion behind him and when he'd turned around to see what was happening he saw - to his horror - that several Kilrathi were squabbling over the severed finger. To eat, he'd realized. The thought of his fellow Kilrathi having to engage in cannibalism just to survive nearly made him sick to his stomach, but then he was forced to wonder what the starving masses would do with his vomit... He had thought of nargrast often during the past decade, and what would happen to his soul should he ultimately fail to fulfill his final duty to his master. Even with all the bad experiences he'd had living on the reservations, he had never before experienced anything that matched his imaginings in real life. But as he looked around him, he had to admit that conditions aboard the T'Kon H'hra station came very close; all that was really missing was the endless, barren wasteland part... Shortly after the incident with the thief, he'd started to make his way towards his scheduled meeting with Sutaghi. He'd had to approach a Terran guard to allow him access to other areas of the station. The guard had let him through after checking his credentials, informing Bloodeye that he had been granted third-level access to the station for the next three days, which would be sufficient for him to leave the cargo bay and visit some of the station's other non-essential areas, and warning him that his access would be revoked if he were to be found outside the cargo bay after 2100 or in any restricted areas at any time. Bloodeye thanked the guard cordially as he allowed him to pass; no doubt Sutaghi had arranged for the necessary clearance. The rest of the station was nowhere near as crowded as the cargo bay; the air was much fresher and Bloodeye took the time to drink the water from a fountain; the water outside the cargo bay was clear and it tasted like it had been well-filtered. After making his way to the twelfth level, Bloodeye had steered his way towards section C, which was originally the station's guest quarters and where the Terrans housed the Kilrathi they had directly in their employ. He'd gotten lost a time or two along the way but didn't find himself in any restricted areas and after stopping to ask for directions, he had eventually found the area of the station where he was supposed to meet up with Sutaghi. While waiting in a common room, he saw several other Kilrathi who held jobs on the station; though they appeared to be better off than their brethren in the cargo bay, Bloodeye could detect the same look of defeat in their faces. He didn't have very long to wait before Sutaghi came, the two of them proceeding to the latter's private cabin - a luxury in and of itself on the station, as he'd learned that even the Kilrathi in the employ of the Broken Claw largely had to share billets with one another. Bloodeye had just finished telling him the same tale that he'd told Ra'Khaj a week ago on Odell, sharing - much to Bloodeye's delight - a bottle of Sukhar May'ya that Sutaghi had apparently been hiding from his Terran handlers for quite some time. Sutaghi sat, absorbing what he'd been told with thoughtful expression on his face. "It is not unheard of for those in power, who are supposed to behave as paragons of honor, to behave dishonorably. So, tell me why you are here specifically, Bloodeye N'Ryllis." The time had come to make the same request that Bloodeye had originally made of Ra'Khaj. "I need a ship, preferably a warship." Sutaghi nodded. "In that regard, you've definitely come to the right place - we have warships in surplus, if you're not picky about their condition. I presume since you have asked that particular question that your intent is to use it for piracy?" Bloodeye thought for a moment, answering the question with careful tones. "I suppose the answer to that question depends on how you define piracy. If you're asking if my intention is to use the ship to seize goods from the Terrans, then yes, I intend to go into piracy. If you're asking if I intend to keep what I take for myself, the answer is no; I intend to give back what I take to the Kilrathi people." "How altruistic of you." A hint of annoyance entered Bloodeye's voice. "Do you question my intentions?" Sutaghi's tail flicked. "No, Krahtagh N'Ryllis, I don't - I sincerely believe you when you say that is your intent. But I have heard these same words before from others who in the end proved to be more self-serving. I don't mean to insult your honor - far from it - but I do wish to be sure you are being honest with yourself." Bloodeye gestured with passion. "Until I can fulfill my master's task, my soul is bound for nargrast. Nothing I can do will change that, and if it's my fate to go there, I least want to die with the knowledge that I spent my remaining years doing good for the Kilrathi people. I've spent ten years living on a reservation, and I know that there are things - foods and medicines in particular - which the Terrans have in surplus and of which our people are in dire need. I was in the cargo bay for less than a minute before I came to the determination that things are so much worse here. If I can help them, I must; it is as simple as that. I don't know how long you've been here, Arrah Sutaghi, but surely you cannot tell me that the thought of taking the goods our brothers so obviously need from the Terrans has never crossed your mind." Sutaghi's ears flicked backwards momentarily, the Kilrathi equivalent of a cocked eyebrow. "The thought crosses my mind more often than you might think, Krahtagh N'Ryllis. One of the advantages of my job here is that I get to see the manifests of the transports that arrive. I know what's coming in and when it'll be here, and I make the necessary arrangements to quietly re-route some of it to our brothers. It's never enough, of course, and the suffering of our people continues. But yes - I have thought of stealing from the Terrans. And I fear the day I finally get caught doing it. He stood up and walked over to look out a porthole into space, a look of deep sadness on his face. "I'll admit to you, Krahtagh N'Ryillis, that the same thing you're considering - to steal a ship and take the fight back to the Terrans - has crossed my mind on occasion. I've imagined myself torching every Terran ship from here to Earth, slaughtering Terrans left and right and turning their world into a charnel house. And the spoils of that campaign would be brought back here, and all would have what they needed, and there would be a victory feast like none the universe had ever seen. I've also imagined taking a torpedo and launching it straight into the cargo bay. It would be a faster and more honorable death for our brothers..." Forgive me for testing the strength of your convictions, Arrah Sutaghi, Bloodeye thought. But you did so first. "Why have you not done so, Arrah Sutaghi?", Bloodeye hazarded. Sutaghi growled in momentary annoyance. "You may have heard what my 'friend' Karl called me as you were heading into the cargo bay earlier..." "Yes. He called you The Murderer of Five," Bloodeye recalled. Sutaghi nodded acknowledgment, a tone of disgust creeping into his voice. "That he did, and that tale - like yours - boils down to a falsehood concocted and perpetrated by those in power. Prior to my time here I was a field soldier for the KAC Police, and occasionally I flew diplomatic shuttles; that's how I came to be known by Lord Ra'Khaj. One day I was tasked with delivering the principal lieutenants of two members of the Council of the Assembly to a summit with the lak Agga warlords of S'Thran H'hra. On final approach to the spaceport at Brajakh Mer, the lak Agga shot the shuttle down; the diplomats and their attaches died in the crash and I was seriously wounded. I know we had been attacked and the lak Agga were responsible - but the lak Agga said that their "investigation" into the crash led them to believe that "pilot error" was to blame, and the Council believed them - that the lak Agga would never sully their honor by telling such an egregious lie. From that day forward, I was the Murderer of Five, ostracized by our leaders and our people. I was sent to this hellhole because the Kal Thrak'hra of the Cakxi clan called for my head and Lord Thavidaqut did not want to allow another clan leader to dictate the execution of one of his own, though he too felt I was guilty of negligence and void of honor for attempting to pass blame. I don't have private quarters on this station because of any kind of merit I've earned; I have them because no other Kilrathi wants to share the room with me, and that fact suits me just fine. I know I'm innocent, and that if I could present the proof to our leaders that they would restore my honor and beg my forgiveness. But instead, I am here, where I can do precious little to clear my name, and in the meantime I have for the past six years been forced to watch as our enemies castrate the once-proud fleets of Kilrah, herd our brethren like rugalga and leave them to starve or die from common diseases." There was a silence in the room as Sutgahi thought and Bloodeye absorbed what had been said. No doubt that in his time at T'Kon H'hra, Sutaghi had suffered much - perhaps he had suffered even more deeply than Bloodeye had in his decade on the reservations. A thought again crossed Bloodeye's mind, one that had occurred to him more than once over the last couple of days - and after hearing this brief fragment of Sutaghi's story, it made even more sense than it had when he first had the thought. "Your tale is remarkably close to mine, it seems." Sutaghi nodded, though his tone was still marked with pain and disgust. "It would seem so." Bloodeye decided to make the offer - there was certainly no harm in doing so. "Arrah Sutaghi, it is one thing for me to find a ship, but should I do so, I will need to have a crew in order to run it. I have been giving the matter of finding a crew some thought; I am not terribly thrilled with my prospects there. I've enountered many in the Empire who know the name of my late master Lord Talmak, that have heard my name and know that I'm sa'guk. There are those out there who would run me through sooner than they would give me the time of day." Sutaghi nodded. "What you say is true enough, Krahtagh N'Ryllis. I myself once had the privilege of serving with another retainer of Lord Talmak nar Sutaghi." "You served under Gar?" "In a manner of speaking; I helped him to orchestrate the prison escape on Rakis during the War. " "Then you understand why I find myself in need of an intermediary, Arrah Sutaghi. Someone who could assist me in approaching our brethren. Original Text for Scene Six GP: And whether I believe your tale or not - I do, by the way - what you're offering is a way of leaving this place behind for good - this is what you should lead with when you try to find a crew." GP: You may be in luck once again. I've made connections with several kili who live on this base that have varying skills. They could conceivably make a fine crew, given the right leader. They know me and I know them. B: If you could gather them together and let me introduce myself all at once, that would be a helpful thing. GP: I will do this for you. I'll arrange a meeting and spread the word. This may take a while, as some of them are harder to locate than others. Let's say two days from now we'll convene. In the meantime, I'll look up the station's records and see which ships are in the best shape. B: I appreciate all the help you're giving me, Arrah Sutaghi. GP: Don't thank me just yet - thank me when we have space beneath our feet and this place is far behind us... ---- [[Elegy_2.1:_Tarakh%27ga|NEXT: 2.1 Part One - Tarakh'ga]] PREVIOUS: 1.0 Introduction TOP ----